


Jacob's Childhood Friend

by MissBumblina



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, I like to imagine some Irene Adler type character here, M/M, and beating the shit out of them, with a fancy walking cane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBumblina/pseuds/MissBumblina
Summary: Moved from my tumblr, @bumblinas-imagines, and possibly requested by an anon, I can't recall for this one :{"I need some Jacob, my friend. Anyway I can get this English boy, be it fluffy or spicy, I just need some sort of Jacob. >:D Can't think of much else other than maybe... the reader and Jacob where childhood friends that reunite? Maybe they had feelings for each other then that are stronger now? How do would Jacob react to seeing his friend all grown up???"-possibly anon





	Jacob's Childhood Friend

It was a gorgeous and sunny day. A cool breeze carried the smell of flowers and fresh bread, Rooks stood with their heads held high, and music poured out of the pubs. Wonderful, yes, wonderfully boring. 

There were plenty of boroughs to free from Templar control still, but the silence following freedom never ceased to amaze Jacob. They became entirely new streets. Of course, that was the point, however, the silence was somewhat oppressive when other areas were still under Starrick’s thumb.

Jacob pushed himself off the wall and nodded at the Rooks beside him. They replied with a short wave, understanding his restlessness and quietly letting him know they’d take care of the place in his absence.

“Unhand me you ruffians!” a cry rose above the crowd, accompanied by lowbrow jeers and insults. Surprised, Jacob narrowed his eyes and scanned the streets, looking for the source. Something in the voice struck a chord with him, he knew that voice, but from where?

His lips curled into a snarling grin. Blighters, a raucous group of them too, surrounded a single individual. He took quick stock of the situation. Four Blighters, one with his hand gripping their victim’s shoulder, and a well dressed individual with an ornate walking cane. From the back, they didn’t look like they’d seen a fight in their life. 

Jacob wasted no time making his way across the street, his Rooks in pursuit. This could get the wrong kind of bloody quickly. He slipped his brass knuckles onto his fingers and dipped his hand into his pocket, gripping the small throwing knife there.

He watched as one Blighter drew a blade from his belt. Driven purely be instinct, the throwing knife flew from his fingertips and sunk into the attacker’s skull. Their intended victim glanced at the Blighter as he fell and lifted their cane to strike the nearest Blighter. One swift hit across the head sent him into the wall with a sickening crack.

Jacob grinned and rushed to the group, his Rooks shouting to draw attention away from the citizen. The last two Blighters drew their guns, snarling profanities at them. The citizen cracked their cane on the nearest one’s wrist, breaking it, and struck him in the face with the handle. Knocked out, but not dead, not this time anyway. Jacob dispatched the last one quickly, his hidden blade sinking into his throat before the gun reached chest height.

All in all, a dull fight if not for the surprise attack from their own victim.

“I had heard that London was a dangerous city,” the citizen straightened their clothes and pushed a wisp of hair from their face, “but I didn’t think I’d be mugged in broad daylight! Thank you, sir.”

They turned to face Jacob and stood stock still, their nervous smile wavering for a moment before breaking into a full grin, “Jacob Frye?”

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat, a crooked smile plastered on his face. This wasn’t just some random ‘they’, this was you. Old feelings he thought faded away suddenly crashed into him, swarming his mind, “Y/N! What on earth are you doing here? Did they teach you to use a cane like that in that fancy boarding school of yours?”

“Well,” you stood very poised and graceful, but there was a bashful curl to your lips and a flush in your cheeks, giving you away, “I learned to defend myself when my knight in a dusty newsboy couldn’t protect me.”

“Knight?” he nearly choked on himself, grinning from ear to ear, “of course you’d think me so valiant,” he teased you as he stepped over one of the Blighters, “does that mean you thought you were my prince/ss?”

Your cheeks burned and you looked aside, seeing the admission in your statement. Clearing your throat, you retorted, “oh please, we both know I was the knave looking up to their Lord, Jacob.”

Beaming, Jacob offered his arm, “well, whatever you are, let me show you around London. You’ll be safe with me unless… you want a little danger.”

You laughed and took his arm, “Jacob Frye, you never change, do you?”

“More or less.”


End file.
